The Search
by Phoenix Fidelius
Summary: He is searching, searching the morning papers.  There is something he is desperately looking for.  But what is it?  [Oneshot]


It was fun doing a fic that wasn't pairing-centric. I think I may do more. :3

And, btw, I think the title of this fic is horrible, so if any of you clever writers can come up with something more interesting please, please, oblige me.

**As always, I do not own any of the Phoenix Wright characters. However, the aged tailor guy I did create. Hehe.**

* * *

When the morning paper arrives, he quickly takes it and unfolds it across the circular table in the kitchen, sipping his coffee. He scans the paper closely, front to back, furiously searching for something. However, his examination seems to have been in vain. The paper is tossed indiscriminately aside, its reader just a hair miffed. 

He stares off, thinking, bringing the mug to his lips absently. Stealing a glance back at the discarded publication, he snatches it up again, and repeats his search. Still nothing. The paper is rejected once again.

- - -

The following morning follows the same pattern. Paper unfolded across the circular table. Mug of coffee in hand. Piercing eyes scrutinizing each page as if it would reveal to him the secrets of the world. But, like yesterday, the paper is thrown unceremoniously into the recycling bin. It seems he would have to wait longer than expected.

- - -

Days follow, following a similar routine. And still, the searcher seems no closer to finding his prize. And with each day that passes, his disposal of the newspaper becomes increasingly frantic. But, he reminds himself, he must keep poised. He would find what he wanted eventually.

- - -

Finally, on the tenth day since the search began, the seeker strikes gold. Rereading it several times to assure himself he hadn't imagined it, he finally seems to believe that the time has come at last. The paper is set down, and he grabs his jacket as he makes for the door.

The drive is a quick one, especially in a high-horsepower sports car like his. And furthermore, in his haste, he takes certain…liberties…with the speed limit. No matter. He parks the car on the side of a quiet avenue in front of an unassuming storefront, towards which he walks purposefully.

There is a tinkle of a bell as the door swings wide, revealing a well kept, if aging, tailor's shop. The store clerk, it seemed, had been aged to match the establishment, a slender, elegant gentleman in a crisp suit. He appears to be poring over some sales documents, but looks up at the sound of the bell. Upon seeing the face of his younger customer, the lines of his weathered face break into a genial smile.

"Ahh, I knew it wouldn't be long before I saw you," the gentleman says knowingly.

"Yes, well, you know I've been waiting for this day for a while now," answers the other politely.

"Indeed, indeed. Well then, you know where they are, come along," replies the gentleman with a wink and a wave of the hand. The younger man obliges and follows, right to the back of the store, where the clerk had pulled back a velvet curtain.

After a sharp intake of breath, the customer enters the small room. It is lined with shelves and shelves of the treasure he had been scouring the newspapers for. There is an audible sigh of happiness as the customer looks around.

The gentleman appears beside him. "It really is a shame that no one wears them anymore, Mr. Edgeworth. Cravats really do wonders for a suit. Why, just look at yourself! Best dressed lawyer I've ever seen!" beams the gentleman, almost with the air of a proud father.

But Mr. Edgeworth didn't catch a word.

The gentleman continues, oblivious. "I fear, Mr. Edgeworth, that even with this annual cravat sale I have, that you might once again be my only taker." He sighs, disappointedly, almost sadly. "Well, I'll leave you to it then! Remember, it's all half-off, just like the ad in the paper said!"

With that, the gentleman clerk whisks himself away behind the velvet curtain, leaving Edgeworth and the frill-adorned room in silence.

Edgeworth stands for a few more moments, just taking them all in. Red, white, black, blue, silk, lace, Italian, French… The corners of his mouth curl up by a fraction. He digs in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone, and pressing speed dial number 9.

It rings for a few seconds, before a voice finally picks up. "Hello, Mr. Edgeworth, sir? What can I do for you?"

"Yes, Detective Gumshoe…I'm going to need you to cancel all of my meetings at the police department today. I have a…previous engagement."

"Okay, sir, you got it!"

"Oh, and Detective Gumshoe?"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Don't bother calling me with any sort of updates. I will be far too occupied to answer any of them." Edgeworth ends the call. Yes, it was going to be a _wonderful _day.


End file.
